


The Humor Grows Darker Yet Darker

by Inventivetic



Series: Little Farts of Inspiration Go a Long Way [5]
Category: Undertale
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Bad Parenting, Crack Treated Seriously, Gender-Neutral Frisk, Good W. D. Gaster, Hospitalization, M/M, Out of Character, Pacifist Frisk, Parent-Child Relationship, Parenthood, Post-Undertale Pacifist Route, Post-Undertale Pacifist Route - "I want to stay with you.", Queerplatonic Sans/Toriel, W. D. Gaster is not related to Skelebros
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-24
Updated: 2017-10-24
Packaged: 2019-01-09 04:48:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12269235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inventivetic/pseuds/Inventivetic
Summary: Toriel grows ill, Sans tries to be a little more responsible, and Gaster is the victim of a "prank".





	The Humor Grows Darker Yet Darker

**Author's Note:**

> Thank Dragonsrule08 for this super cute idea!

 

A jolt shot through Sans every time a boom erupted from the crackling, gray masses above him. They had grown with rainwater as sunset neared, consuming the sky until only a small amount of sunlight could trickle in from around the bulk of a cloud. Thankfully, no actually rain has come to spoil his day, but there wasn't much to spoil.

 Toriel had sounded weak and gravelly over the phone, but he chalked it up to poor signal. She confirmed what he thought when she casually mentioned Qualms Road had the poorest signal around. She said was unlucky enough to experience that in person. The conversation went on fine until she hesitantly made her point.

 

She was sick, too sick to take care of Frisk herself. 

 

Apparently, they didn't tell her how much of a piss poor job he did of protecting them in the Underground. She _kept trusting him_ with her child. He couldn't refuse, still. Of course he was going to _really_ step up to the plate when Toriel needed him. He wouldn't ignore this. He  _couldn't._

Sans crossed the street and found the place he was looking for, a towering building with a myriad of bulky windows. He stepped past the sliding doors and approached the front desk. When he asked for Toriel, the person behind the marble counter handed him a map and gave instructions that he wasn't listening to.

He thanked them before following the colorfully labeled routes into the elevator to the right. The ride to the top floor didn't last long whatsoever. Sans found himself staring blankly at the piece of paper before he knew it, pressing himself to the walls as nurses and other visitors rushed past him. He walked and walked and walked until he reached an off-white hallway. The first door to his left had a blue sign that said "ROOM SEVEN" in white letters. He let himself in.

At least Toriel had made herself cozy. That much was apparent to him as soon as he entered. The room was practically crowded with stuffed toys, get-well cards and all kinds of other assortments. 

 

"Sans, my friend!" Toriel sat up from her bed. Sans couldn't pinpoint what looked so off about her, she looked sick in general. "Thank you so much for coming." She said.

 

"it ain't even a hassle, tori." He sat on her bed, hoping that the uninvited action didn't come off as rude. "how are you feelin'?"

 

"Ah," Toriel said in a tone that suggested she was becoming hesitant with regurgitating the same answer. "I...will be honest with you. I am not well in the slightest." Sans could tell she hadn't been so tactless with the others, otherwise they would've been in more of a frenzy.

 

"Recently, my food has been refusing to stay down, my temples throb and I have been feeling very, very dizzy." Toriel said, placing a fury hand on his shoulder. "Before that I could suddenly not see a thing, the whole world was just plunged into darkness. I was frightened. Frisk panicked and now I await here."

 

"hey," He said, shrugging. "take it from a guy who walks to the microwave everyday...work is stressful, and you definitely work." She nodded, sighing.

 

"Please, do not allow me to take up any more of your time. I only wish that Frisk is tended to and within your care." Toriel leaned forward with a lot of effort on her part, enveloping Sans in a hug.

 

 

**[...]**

 

Frisk was loitering behind the building, in front of a inconveniently placed vending machine, chewing on some chocolate. They made him wonder how they managed to pull the little stunt off since the sign clearly stated it was "OUT OF ORDER".

 Sans stood behind them until they took notice, preparing himself for the inevitable hug. Frisk wrapped their arms around their shoulders, their candy a few inches away from his cheek. Like they had psychic powers, Frisk pulled away before he could take a bite. They tried to pry their face away from his chest, but he held them fast. "what, you don't like sansy's hugs anymore?" They giggled while they tried to escape and waved their full hand around simultaneously. 

The loud crunch that followed told them that they had just suffered a great loss. Sans' arms fell away and they were allowed to assess the damages. Frisk made a show of stuffing the other half into their face as he ran his sleeve across his face.

 

"anyways, a little birdy told me you wanted to blow this popsicle stand." He held out his hand. "how about it?" They paused, so Sans put his arm down.

 

"She's sick, isn't she?" Frisk said. "I need to stay."

 

Sans sighed softly, opting to gaze into the distance. "'kay... but think about that for a sec. tori wants you where you're well-cared for, you get me?" Sans said, continuing as they remained silent. "poor sansy can't exactly ignore a request like that without some... serious consequences." He was thankful Frisk didn't protest, though they had the complete right to throw all his laziness into his face just then.

 

"Okay, okay." Frisk said, entertaining their fingers with his. Once the duo materialized in a familiar living room, Frisk headed towards the kitchen. Their hands slipped away and Sans' arms flopped to his sides. Sans stood in the room for a moment, watching Frisk as they disappeared behind the wall.

 

"Was that the Determined Soul, Frisk?" Gaster peered from behind the door to their bedroom. "For what reason have they come? Is Toriel well?" Sans realized that the poor fool never saw Frisk in person. Their arrival probably scared him since his experience with humans had not been the best. Sans nodded somberly and vaguely. He then gestured for him to come closer.

 

Sans proceeded in a low voice. "their mom's real sick, so she trusted us to keep an eye socket out for them," Sans said. "don't worry, they're cool."

 

"What has Toriel come down with?" He tensed. "Nothing by the hand of  _poison,_ I hope?"

 

"god, no. really bad migraines. anyways," He motioned for his boyfriend to follow him into the kitchen. "frisk is tori's little kid. gaster—" 

 

"Of course they are familiar with me. I am their favorite uncle." He pulled a hard candy out of his pocket like they were old friends, reuniting at last. Frisk laughed and took the offer graciously.

 

Sans turned slowly, his voice filled a swift precision he rarely used. "what was that, wing dings?" Sans said. " _'favorite uncle?_ ' " sorry 'bout that, but the position is taken and his name's sans."

 

"Is that so?" He said. "Sorry, but I'm sure they don't spend _all_ their time stacking hotdogs until they topple. What a waste of food!" Sans chuckled, low and dark. 

 

"welp. looks like it's bedtime, kiddo." Sans put his hand on their shoulders and steered them past Gaster into the living room, ignoring their complaints. "g'night." Gaster only watched with a suspicious expression as Sans pushed them up the stairs. He returned after twenty minutes or so.

 

"It appears I have hit a nerve," He crossed his arms. " _Uncle_ Sans _._ "

 

"nah, you just fuck off." Sans said. Gaster gave him a little pat on the head, and Sans playfully swat his hand away. " let me have this one for a couple years, okay? im positive papyrus will have a shit-ton of annoying kids that you can tell dad jokes to." 

 

"You certainly have high hopes for him." Gaster shook his head, laughing. "How many—"

 

"please," Sans said. "i'm his brother. i've been hearing fantasies about how his five kids will discover planet fluffy bunny for  _years._ "

 

"I'm scared to wonder if these were recent or—"

 

"he was six."

 

"I am less frightened now."

 

"now he realizes he can have fives kids  _and_ adopt," Sans said. "now he talks about how he's gonna dump his twelve kids on us on weekdays to teach me about responsibility—"

 

"This conversation is over." Gaster said. "I'm tired, it's late and you're still not the favorite Uncle. Good night." 

 

Oh, he was going to regret that deeply.

 

 

**[...]**

 

Gaster awoke to the smell of burning.

 

He leapt out of the bed, clutching the blankets to his bare body. He threw open the door to a face full of thick, black smoke.

 

"hey, g." Sans said and he turned to face him. "what's up?

 

"W- _what?_ " Gaster threw dug his fingers into the cloth. "Where is the child? Did they die?"

 

" they're just cooking breakfast." Sans said. Sans was not able to continue as Gaster disappeared into the kitchen.

 

Indeed, the child was cooking despite the intolerable conditions. His magic rocketed forwards until it latched onto something, more appropriately, Frisk's soul. He backed out of the kitchen as he yanked. A moment later, Frisk collided with him and they both fell to the floor in the living room. 

 

"whoops, looks like all your pans got messed up." Frisk and Sans shot Gaster a triumphant smirk, the later brandishing a charred pan out of his pocket. "wondered how—" Sans dropped the pan. Gaster's hands were crackling, in all-too-familar fashion. A sign that was associated with horrible, horrible visions

 

Gaster dropped to the floor.

 

 

 

**[...]**

 

"—Sans, that was the most irresponsible and dangerous thing I have ever heard!" Silvia flew from Toriel's mouth like a flower girl tossing flowers at a wedding. "And to think that  _you_ were the adult in this situation! Gaster could have—!" Sans clenched his toes in his slippers. He didn't say anything.

 

 

"Toriel, please..." Gaster said from his wheelchair. "Sans feels guilty enough." Toriel looked between the couple, her expression gradually softening.

 

 

"Sans, as much as I am frustrated at your carelessness. I can tell from your expression that you did not mean any harm." She said. "However, I wish that you do not watch Frisk for a while." Sans nodded somberly.

 

 

"Farewell, Ms. Toriel." Gaster called over his shoulder as he followed Sans out the door. He shoved his hands in his pockets. "...Would you like to go to some restaurant, Sans?"

 

 

"you're serving me to lunch after i almost  _killed_ you?" Sans said, his voice holding no warmth.

 

 

"'Killed' is a strong word." Gaster stood from the wheelchair. Sans looked up at him with a baffled expression. "What? You thought you were the only one who could pull a prank?"

 

 

"a p—" Sans threw his hands in the air. "you _asshole._  you made me think you almost  _died._ " 

 

 

"Well, someone needed to teach you not to be so reckless." He said. "Besides, you're laughing."

 

 

Sans was laughing in a crazed, manic way. He pressed his hands to his face. "g-god. y-you really are my boyfriend." Gaster pulled him close. Sans didn't dare prank him after that.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Ack! Sorry for taking so long to update. Writer's block has been a difficult obstacle to surpass aaaaaa
> 
> I hope y'all enjoy anyways ;)


End file.
